


A La Claire Fontaine

by cmcross



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drama, F/F, Femslash, Romance, star crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 13:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmcross/pseuds/cmcross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate wants out of the game, but Anthea can't – won't – leave. She owes Mycroft Holmes more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A La Claire Fontaine

Their meetings are hurried, infrequent, and barely enough to fully satisfy either of them, but it's something. It sooths the itch, the painful longing in their hearts, and gives them strength so carry on.

For a little while at least.

But Kate wants more, more than Anthea is willing or able to give her, and things between them become strained. They take it out on each other's bodies, fingers plunging inside, bringing the other to orgasm swiftly and without mercy; mouths biting, nipping, and sucking, leaving bruises along the curves of rounded breasts and the hollow spaces between shoulder blades.

Kate likes bruises, likes the subtle flash of pain when they're touched, flesh memories that hold her in their thrall long after the bruises have faded to pale yellow then disappear.

Anthea likes whatever Kate likes. Likes giving her everything she wants, loving the way her face lights up with happiness. She wants to give Kate a wedding with roses and a home with a white fence and a door they open to no one but themselves. Because that's what Kate wants, Anthea wants it too, and it such a sweet, seductive dream.

Kate wants out of the game, but Anthea can't – won't – leave. She owes Mycroft Holmes more than that.

So she never gives Kate the roses she desires so much and sees her eyes grow worried, then sad, then cold.

And then one day Kate is in London, for one reason or another, and Anthea travels to their usual meeting place.

Anthea waits. And waits. And waits some more.

And Kate never comes.

She walks to the bedroom and suddenly feels like weeping. There, on the night stand, is a bouquet of beautiful yellow roses. She doesn't need to read the card to know this is goodbye.

Toeing off her shoes she wraps herself up in the soft silk sheets that remind her so much of the touch of Kate's body on hers, the way they used to slide together, hearts thumping in their chests, the room smelling of wine and perfume and sex.

She buries her face in the pillow and sobs until her soul doesn't feel like it's shattering anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're familiar with the french children's song A La Claire Fontaine you probably see why I chose the title as I did. If you don't know it, youtube it. It's quite lovely. And sad. My favorite version is by Les Petits Minous, which was played in the movie The Painted Veil.


End file.
